Chapter 2: The Cape of Stranglethorn Job
Years have now passed since the once mighty Kingdom of Stromgarde was shattered. Remnants of the army of Stromgarde as well as survivors of the attack on the capital fled into the hills of the Arathi Highlands. Within the hills they established Refuge Point. Prince Galen and his remaining city guard remained in the city, making their plans to retake the city and oust the unwanted inhabitants. Envoys of Stromgarde went to the New Stormwind to request aid and support to retake their home, but Stormwind had their own domestic obstacles which hindered their ability to provide any aid to the refugees. The same response was given by the Ironforge Dwarves and reclusive Night Elves. The third war had ravaged Azeroth and for the time being all the races and kingdoms were focused inwards and on returning to some semblance of normalcy they had before the Scourge and the invasion of the Burning Legion.
Stromgarde continued to crumble even as the Dark Portal had reopened, the combined Horde and Alliance expeditions headed north to confront the Lich King, Deathwing arose from his hideaway deep beneath the surface and nearly tore Azeroth in half, and the long lost continent of Pandaria was found. The people of Stromgarde still hold on to the hope that their home will be theirs again even after their prince, Galen Trollbane, was struck down and resurrected to serve the banshee queen Sylvanas within the ranks of the Forsaken. Even after all of this, after all the hardships and wars, the people still have one final hope. The hope that the last of the Trollbane line would return to the Arathi Highlands and lead his people to retake their home. Danath Trollbane has done his duty for the Alliance in Outland, and now it is nearly time for his return.
The wheel of fate turns and preparations are being made for the Danath's return, but with the world of Azeroth still teetering on the brink of open war between the Alliance and Horde help will be hard to come by. Only with the aid of truly remarkable and talented heroes will there be any chance of victory.
Thomas Blackwell shook as a cold salty breeze blew past him from the sea. He and six of his henchmen had been waiting at an isolated inlet in the Cape of Stranglethorn. Once the sun had gone down, the normal heat and humidity of the jungle dissipated to a deeply chilling cold. It didn't help that the inlet funneled the cold winds from the sea right to where they were awaiting the Bloodsail Buccaneers' envoy. Normally, Thomas and his boys would be working out of Westfall. They did side jobs for the newly revitalized Defias Brotherhood. He had been working for them exclusively for too long. They had begun to pressure him to take part in "the just cause". Thomas was never one for causes, unless of course the cause was to make money. He was a businessman first and a fighter second.
Just as the moon was reaching its highest point in the sky, one of his lookouts had spotted the sails of a boat sailing around the edge of shore and heading into the inlet. Thomas picked up the lantern that he had kept covered with a heavy cloth tarp. He held the lantern in front of him and lifted the cloth in front of the lantern to signal the ship. He and his contact had an agreed upon pattern, and when the ship had responded appropriately with their own signal lamp he and his boys made ready the cargo and waited for the pirates' representative to come ashore on one of their ships row boats.
As soon as the boat approached the shore, three men hopped over the side of the ship and began towing the boat upon the sandy beach. Once the boat had been shored, three more men, all wearing a dark blood red article of clothing to identify with the pirate enterprise they were employed, leaped onto the beach and fanned off to each side. Thomas and his men stood by their crates of stolen merchandise watching the Bloodsail Pirates secure and sweep the area for any possible signs of subterfuge or double crossings that he might have planned. Thomas endured the slight insult. It was the first time he and the pirates would be working together and it was only natural that they might each have their own suspicions of the other. No honor among thieves as the saying went.
Finally, after the buccaneers were satisfied they were alone; the envoy disembarked and approached Thomas. He was a large man with wide shoulders and skin deeply tanned from spending most of his days on the ocean. He wore a deep red jacket that was battered and worn but at one time would have been considered a nobleman's jacket. The man's face was marked with three scars: one above his left eye, across his nose, and on his right cheek. His chin was covered in a beard that extended all the way to his chest and he spoke in a deep booming voice:
"Mr. Blackwell I presume?" He didn't even wait for a response. "I am here as a representative of the Bloodsail Buccaneers to do business with your enterprise. If we are satisfied with what you have to offer then we will consider negotiating further with you."
Straight to business without any rhetoric on how they would be supporting a worthwhile cause or whatever they chose to call their vendetta. Thomas couldn't help by crack a smile. He was already looking forward to working with them over the Defias Brotherhood.
Thomas gestured to his men and they carried one of the crates to him and cracked open the lid. "We acquired these crates from a convoy scheduled to stop at the Explorer League's Digsite and Booty Bay." He reached in and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with string. He opened the bundle and showed the envoy its contents. Just within that single bundle was twenty sticks of dynamite, and there were another two dozen bundles still in the crate.
"Captain Redsail, the other crates contain medical supplies, dried food, drinking water casks, and random luxury goods. It's all yours if the price is right." The envoy took one of the sticks of dynamite and inspected it. Though the man tried to hide his emotions, Thomas could see he was impressed and eager to buy.
Redsail looked up and was about to start the negotiations when suddenly a rattling noise was heard coming from the path deeper within the jungle and approaching them. The envoy looked at Thomas:
"What's that?"
Thomas was looking in to the foliage of the jungle trying to make out the source of the noise.
"I have no idea. It's not one of ours. Men, be ready to take whatever unfortunate soul decided to wander upon this site tonight." 'Light have mercy on whoever thought they could ruin this deal,' thought Thomas. He continued to peer down the path leading into the jungle when suddenly a cart came in to view.
"Alright Garret, it's nearly show time." The short brawny dwarf adjusted himself in the passenger seat at the front of the cart. The human next to him driving the cart responded with only a grunt. They were both itching for a fight. The human pulled his cowl deeper over his face so that whatever light from the moon would not show his features. The dwarf ran his fingers through his crimson red beard that extended from his chin all the way down to his navel. He checked that the mace he had hidden under his seat was still where he left it and then was all set for the coming confrontation.
"Halt!" They heard a shout coming from the clearing near the beach but continued driving the horse and cart towards the opening.
"Halt or else!" Now they were far enough near the beach that they could see the entire scene unfolding before they had interrupted. Two men, one obviously a pirate, stood near an open crate. Another dozen men, half pirates, were fanned out across the beach with one rowboat shored and in the distance a larger sea vessel anchored within the inlet. All the men had their swords drawn and visibly ready to fight.
Garret pulled the cart to a stop and let out a low throaty growl that only the dwarf next to him could hear.
"Easy lad, let me do the talkin." The dwarf stood up and looked visibly perplexed.
"Oy! This isn't Booty Bay! Evening gentlemen, my name is Father Magnar, a lowly servant of the Light, an this here strapping young lad is Garret, my driver. My companion an I were on our way to Booty Bay to bring the Light and salvation to the wicked sinners of Booty Bay, but it seems we took a wrong turn in the jungle. Could any a ye help us get back on track and guide us to Booty Bay?"
Magnar hoped the priest story would disarm them long enough for him and Garret to get in close and start cracking skulls. The man next to the open crate stepped towards the cart as two more began to flank the cart on either side.
"This is no place for you dwarf. Turn around and head back on the path and tell no one what you saw here."
"No witnesses Thomas." The first man who spoke turned to look back at the large pirate by the crates. It seems this one isn't a fighter, thought Magnar, but the other and his pirates will likely be the trouble.
"Gentlemen, please, can't you see it in ye heart to let the light in. We are nothin but weary travelers. We mean you no harm." Magnar smiled at them. If they bought that he would quit adventuring and become a politician right then and there.
The large pirate began to approach the cart.
"Enough talk out of you dwarf, seize them!" One of the men on Magnar's side reached out to grab the dwarf by the arm, but was instead met with the dwarf's mace to the side of his head knocking him out cold. The man on the driver's side reached out and grabbed Garret's arm and looked up into the face beneath the cowl. He stared up into the dark chilling blue orbs within the man's eye sockets and was immediately frozen in fear
"Death Knight!" The man screamed at the top of his lungs, but as he stared up into the man's face he noticed it seemed to shift. The jaw elongated and the teeth began to grow. The arm he had seized rippled with growing muscle and hair began to sprout. The sounds of bones cracking and shifting could be heard from the man's body and suddenly it was not a man's face he was looking into, but rather a wolf's.
"Worgen!" The man screamed again as he felt the worgen's clawed hand wrap around his throat and hurl him across the beach into one of the pirates as if he had been nothing but a mere rag doll. Garret unleashed a howl and leapt from the cart landing on one of the approaching men.
"Surround them!" The shout came from the large pirate who was obviously in charge. Magnar swung his mighty mace at the next approaching henchman. The man slashed at Magnar with his cutlass but Magnar ducked underneath the blow and swung his mace up underneath the man's now exposed chin. He struck the man with enough force that he had flown a foot into the air before landing with his back on the sand and a fractured jaw.
"Any time ye are ready to help would be great Ali!" shouted Magnar.
One of the pirates had run back to the shored boat and came back with a blunderbuss. He pointed the gun at Garret who at the time was wielding a sword in one hand defending against an attacking pirate while with the other was using his necrotic powers to asphyxiate one of Blackwell's henchman who had tried to get behind the worgen. The man knelt on the beach grasping at his neck as his face turned blue. The pirate lined up the shot and prepared to pull the trigger when suddenly a bonobo monkey leapt from atop one of the nearby trees screeching as he landed upon the head of the pirate. The pirate fell upon his back as the monkey pummeled his face and chest with his balled fists. Two pirates rushed to the downed man to try to pull the monkey off of him but were stopped when suddenly two arrows were launched from the tree line striking them in the chest.
The blood elf Ali'theron emerged from the tree line and slung his bow across his back. From his hips he drew out two curved cutlasses and rushed to join Magnar who had been fending off three assailants, one of whom was Thomas Blackwell. One of the attackers turned to face the blood elf and immediately went on the defense as the elf's twin blades danced across the pirate's single blade. It wasn't long before the pirate fell under the elf's flurry of blades. Ali turned to join the dwarf as he heard the call for retreat sound from the pirate commander. He saw as the few remaining pirates dashed across the beach and began to push the rowboat back into the water.
Thomas Blackwell had disengaged from the dwarf and began to make a run for the safety of the fleeing boat. Ali took off after him and began to gain on him until suddenly shots were fired from the boat striking the sand in front of him and sending up a huge cloud of sand and dirt into his face. The elf dropped to the beach as more shots began to fire. He looked up in time to see Blackwell swimming out to the waiting boat along with the remaining pirates.
Magnar swung his mace low taking his assailant by surprise. The mace made contact just below the man's knee and the audible crack of broken bone could be heard. The man fell to the ground and screamed in agony. Magnar looked down the beach where Garret was finishing his battle with the last remaining henchman on the beach. The boat was rowing off towards the awaiting vessel. They had missed their chance of capturing the two men on the beach during the negotiations.
"They got away." Ali'theron was covered in sand as he approached Magnar. His bonobo monkey, Alaus, had joined him and perched upon the blood elf's shoulder.
"Ye did good son. It would have been crazy to try to pursue them further with a hail of bullets flying from the boat." They had secured the goods which were their primary contract, but snagging the culprits would reap them an even bigger bonus.
Garret joined them by the crates. He had already shifted back to his human form.
"It was a good fight." The deeply cold and distant voice of Garret still gave Magnar chills even after all of the years they had been fighting together. "Now we wait to see what Malachi can do to bring in Blackwell and Captain Redsail."
They all smiled as they started loading the crates onto the cart knowing what Malachi would do. It would surely be effective, crazy, and would be quite the show for them to see from the beach.
Oh, what shall we do with a drunken Naga!?
What shall we do with a drunken Naga?!
What shall we do with a drunken Naga early in the morning?!
Malachi sung to himself as he slowly made his way across the sandy bottom of the sea in the inlet. One of the many benefits of being undead was that he no longer had to worry about breathing. He readjusted the Nagahide backpack on his shoulders as he approached the anchor. He looked up at the looming bottom of the vessel he was about to board. 'Such a lovely night for an infiltration,' he thought to himself. As he began to climb the chain, he took up his song again.
Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf,
Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf,
Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf early in the morning!
His head breached the calm surface of the water and he slowly scanned around for signs of movement. He listened to the sounds coming from the deck of the ship. He could hear the hustle and bustle of activity. They must have been spooked when they heard the commotion on the beach. 'Good,' he thought, 'they'll be too distracted on the fight to be bother being on the lookout for little old me.' He could see the approaching rowboat heading towards the ship with the remnants of the fight on the beach.
He made his way up the rest of the chain and climbed along the boards of the ship to an open port hole. He climbed into the cannon deck of the ship and looked around for activity. There were a couple of buccaneers talking near the front of the deck but none of them were paying close enough attention to notice him. 'This is too easy. We need to start taking more challenging contracts after this.'
He slipped quietly through the shadows and made his way to the rear of the ship. From there he climbed down the ladder leading into the ships lower hull. The buccaneers used this part of the ship to store their food, drinking water, and supplies necessary to repair the ship. Not a soul in sight.
"It's good they don't keep their gunpowder and explosives down here. Why if an explosion was to happen down here the entire ship would likely sink!" He cackled to himself as he took the Nagahide bag off his back and peered at the contents that it contained. He pulled the sticks of dynamite one by one out. Thanks to the Naga's water resistant hide they were all still dry and ready for use. He pulled out a string of fuse wire and connected each of them with a cord of approximately five feet length in between. He went along the starboard side of the craft and lined the explosives along the hull. When he was finished he attached a timed fuse he had gotten from a goblin engineer in Booty Bay.
"It's not a party without fireworks!" He cackled to himself again.
He made his way back up to the cannon deck when he heard the sound of footsteps across the main deck above. They were moving towards the rear of the ship and the captain's quarters. 'Ahhhh, the guests of honor have arrived to my little shindig. How exciting!'
Ohhhh! Skin him up and let's make supper!
Skin him up and let's make supper!
Skin him up and let's make supper early in the evening!
"How did they know we were meeting there!?" Captain Redsail berated Blackwell as if the man had planned to lose all of his merchandise on purpose. The audacity!
"I lost five good men tonight on that beach as well as all the goods! All of my boys have been with me for years and I trust each of them completely! It's your organization that is made up of cutthroats and thieves. It was likely one of yours!"
Captain Redsail approached the smaller man and stood with his face mere inches away.
"Don't you dare insult me and my men on MY boat ever again. Unless you plan on swimming back and taking those goods with just yourself and your last men you will do what I say." It was more chilling that the behemoth of a man said it with a calm quiet fury then out right yelling in his face. Redsail turned away and went back to his desk. "I am going to mount up another party and we are going to take the beach. We'll bring a mini cannon on the boat to engage them with in case they have any more surprises."
Just then the door swung open and a deckhand stepped in with bugged eyes and open mouth look of surprise.
"What is it Samuel?!" Captain Redsail yelled at the man.
The man's expression never changed as he fell face first upon the floor with a dagger in his back. Standing behind the body was the hunched form of Malachi.
"Surprise!" The undead rogue cackled as he launched a poisoned dart at Blackwell. The dart struck him in the shoulder. Blackwell suddenly felt his muscles seize up as he fell to the floor paralyzed. Redsail did not hesitate as he leapt over his desk, sword drawn, and charged the invader. Malachi reached into his belt and rolled three small balls across the deck at Redsail. They exploded at his feet emitting a blinding flash and a haze of smoke. Redsail swung his sword blindly about attempting to slice the rogue in two. He felt the strike to his head come from behind and fell over unconscious.
When the smoke cleared, Blackwell could see the rogue standing over the still form of Captain Redsail. Try as he might to call for help, the poison prevented him from doing anything but watch. Malachi turned his head and looked at Blackwell with a grin.
" I gotta be honest with you Blackwell. We were a little upset no one invited us to this lovely beach party you were throwing." Malachi knelt down and began to pull a rope from his bag and began tying up the unconscious Redsail.
"Some folks down in Booty Bay were talking about how you were throwing this huge party here with fireworks and everything, but you only invited these Bloodsail goons." Malachi finished tying up Redsail and looked at Blackwell while shaking his head.
"That was not very polite at all Thomas." He stood up and approached the paralyzed Blackwell. "But it's fine Blackwell because I am here to offer to take you to an even better party. Both you and Redsail here were invited by the Baron of Booty Bay to a party there. Now wouldn't that be rude if you both didn't show up? Say nothing if you agree." Malachi smiled at the paralyzed man. He watched as the man's eyes darted around frantically and his mouth twitched. The poison wouldn't wear off for hours.
Garret and Magnar loaded the last crate onto the cart and closed the rear tail gate. They all then walked to the edge of the beach and stared across the water at the lone ship still anchored in the middle of the inlet. Suddenly, a shadow began to bob across the water from the ship towards the beach. As the small row boat got closer, they could see two figures sitting in the back of the boat as a lone figure in the middle of the boat rowed.
"Ack! He did it!" Magnar cheered. "I'm surprised we didn't hear any sounds of alarm or anything from the boat either."
"He does love to make a scene that one." Ali'theron replied.
"Give it time. He always has something up his sleeve." Garret stared across the water. He knew his long time friend was never one for subtlety unless it absolutely required it. 'In like a ghost, but out like a raging kodo' he would always say.
Suddenly the figure on the row boat stood up and raised his hands to the night sky.
"What's that lunatic doing?" Before Magnar could finish his sentence a loud boom sounded from the ship. All three ducked expecting that the ship's cannons might have open fired, but were instead greeted with the sight of smoke billowing from the hull of the ship as it slowly began to keel to one side. The explosion caused a surge of waves and all could see the silhouette of Malachi hopping up and down on the little boat as the waves surged and pushed the boat faster towards shore. Even from the beach they could hear the cackle of his laughter.
"Aye lads. Seems another job completed." They all watched as the waves began to carry the undead man and his quarry closer to shore.
They had returned to Booty Bay with the cargo and the captives and collected their fees. Baron Revilgaz provided the bounty for both Redsail and Blackwell and they returned the goods to the port authority to close out their contract. The goblins would surely sell the dynamite the Explorer's League had stolen from them for a profit, but that was the nature of dealing with goblins: they will make a profit off of other's expense if it suits their goals.
The four mercenaries headed down the docks to celebrate at the Salty Sailor Tavern. At this time of evening, local revelry was already in full swing and the tavern was packed. They found a table away from the bar, ordered their drinks, and regaled each other with their stories of their recent conquest.
"You shoulda seen the look on the man's face that grabbed Garret!" Magnar laughed, took another drink, and continued, "He looked like he was gonna wet himself when he recognized he was a Death Knight, and then when Garret started to change I was sure the man was gonna faint out of fear! Bad enough he grabbed a Death Knight, but a worgen Death Knight! Har har har!" They all got a chuckle out of it. Even Garret allowed a grin to creep across his face.
"I wish I had been there at the beach with you all. Explosions are fun, but nothing can quite match the thrill of cracking skulls!" Malachi grinned and the exposed tendons on the side of his face twitched as he cackled.
"We were all anxious to see what you had planned Malachi." Ali'theron drank a glass of Brightsong wine, an expensive and rare drink imported all the way from Terokkar Forest in Outland, as Alaus the bonobo monkey sat and ate a banana. "When we were planning and you volunteered to handle the ship none of us quite knew what to expect."
"I know a goblin engineer here who I worked with in the past and figured it had been too long since I got to blow anything up. Almost reminded me of the good old days when we were part of the Alliance Expedition through the Dark Portal. Before the third war, when it was simply us versus them. Now there seem to be enemies all around." Malachi's words were somber, unusual for one who was always the first to crack a smile.
"Aye, the world has gone mad. It is because of that time that we all work together now; when we were all on the same side fighting against the onslaught Doomhammer's Horde. Fate and politics would have us fighting each other because of who we should be aligned with, but we were never ones for politics."
Rarely did Garret speak of the past. They had all suffered and fought together in the second war. It was years after the Third War when they finally met each other again upon the cold shores of Northrend when both the Alliance and Horde waged war against the Lich King. Afterwards, when the world had been shifted by the Cataclysm and the two factions began to approach all out war, they banded together again and instead of fighting for factions or kingdoms, they fought for themselves, as mercenaries for hire.
The mood at the table grew somber still as everyone reflected upon their pasts and all that had led up to this moment. The silence hung in the air. Suddenly there appeared as if by magic a small gnome by the table.
"Mind if I join you gentlemen?" Before any of them could say otherwise she had pulled a stool up to the table and sat up at the table with her own mug of ale. Her hair was bright pink and pulled into two poofed out pigtails on either side of her head. She smiled cheerily at them as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip.
"Oy lil lady, this here is a private party. No offense, but we'd just like to sit and chat amongst ourselves if you don't mind."
"My name is Lully Spannerfuse gentlemen," she went on as if Magnar hadn't said anything at all, "and from what I hear you gentlemen are the ones to talk to about getting things done."